


Eragon rewrite

by UtmostSecrecy



Category: The Inheritance Cycle - Christopher Paolini
Genre: F/M, Fix-It
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-18
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2020-12-21 13:42:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21075827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UtmostSecrecy/pseuds/UtmostSecrecy
Summary: A bit of a character swap, say Eragon and Saphira got captured by Galbatorix, leaving the rest of the Varden at a very serious disadvantage, where the only hopes of success are more guile tactics to compensate for their lack of men.





	Eragon rewrite

The adrenaline after battle kept him upright. He wasn't entirely sure how he had pulled off staying alive, but there he was. Urgals lay dead at his feet, and the few men that had been fighting beside him were too. He was definitely in the lower levels, the cavernous tunnels branched out from him. He turned back, wanting to see how the rest of the battle had progressed. It was quiet down there, and he couldn't hear much else but his own heavy breathing, the dripping of blood, the occasional shift of a pile of bodies, and his own footsteps, metallic echoes with each step he took.  
Once he reached the centre of the mountain, he looks up, the actual ceiling far beyond his line of sight. In between are walkways upon walkways. From his downward angle and a high population of dwarves, he saw little over the railings, aside from the occasional head of a man or two. The lack of shouting and other cacophonous noises, as well as a lack of Urgals, queued him to the fact that the war was over. Much to his relief.  
He still didn't want to linger, and he began his ascension up the stairs to the higher levels. He knew very few people here, and he also couldn't find any of them. He had hoped to see Eragon and/or Saphira. At the very least, the latter was hard to miss. He should perhaps be able to hear her long before he saw her. He did consider the possibility that both had perhaps retreated from the frontlines, were stuck in some sort of hospital, or were perhaps too high for him to see, so he continued to climb the stairs to the ground floor keeping an eye out for them with each step. He did have to admit that he had less difficulty running down these stairs in the heat of battle than intentionally walking slowly up the same stairs just ever so closely reaching the end of that adrenaline high.  
He finally, and really, finally reached the ground floor. As expected, there were bodies littering the walkways. He was lucky enough to not have any really on the stairs, save for the few that were easy enough to walk over, around, or could be moved. He was by no means accustomed to death, at least in the form of hundreds slaughtered, stained in the blood of each other, the smell already fumigating the area. He had seen executions, but they were never like this.  
This time there were people, blood stained and fatigued, dragging bodies or heading off somewhere.  
Not everyone can tell how much I look like my father, Murtagh assures himself as he steps from the at least partially covered stairwell onto the walkways. No one really took note of him, much to his relief. Still no sign of Eragon or Saphira, he notes.  
Though, standing a few feet away is Arya. She doesn't appear injured, a feat he attributes more to her magical prowess, but is more than bloody. It was perhaps nice to see her conscious and moving, as when he last saw her she was on the verge of death, and she never exactly stopped by to say hello.  
"Arya," he greets once he was about ten metres from her, careful to warn her at a distance well out of immediate sword-range.  
She turned to look at him, eyeing him before meeting him halfway, he guessed someone must have told her of his involvement in her rescue, "you're alive," she comments, "Come for a 'thank you'?"  
"No, I was wondering where Eragon and Saphira were."  
A look of contemplation crosses her face as she glances around, her eyes seeing much farther than his, but still not seeing them, "where all have you looked?"  
"I came from the lowermost level. I didn't search any of the rooms, so perhaps Eragon is in them, but Saphira should be much easier to find," her not knowing where they were put him on edge.  
"Well, I haven't seen either of them, I'm going to look for them. Are you hurt?" She watched as he clenched his side with his arm, the pain has spread from the initial cut outward, the area throbbing and stinging.  
"Not terribly," he responds.  
"Here let me see. I can heal it," she adds on at the end when he clearly regarded her offer with suspicion. She quickly healed the major wound, which he did thank her for curtly, and they began to walk around the ground floor, finding neither, "where is Ajihad?"  
"I haven't seen him since the battle began."  
It was hours spent thoroughly checking each floor down. They stood out as constantly walking around, not searching for the injured men laying around, though helping if they found them. Once again they reached the lowermost level. Murtagh wasn't exactly searching the area as he left, and definitely didn't want to venture into the caves. When they got really deep into the caves, right where the torches were the only light for metres, and right when they went to leave, they saw Ajihad.  
"Ajihad!" Arya came over to him, prepared to heal him, but he was a bit too far gone. Murtagh came and stood behind her.  
Ajihad croaked out, "Arya…," his eyes were beginning to glass over, he was too wounded. If he wasn't a fighter by nature, he would have died already, "Eragon and Saphira, they're taken," he breaths outs, straining to say this. They both quietly listen as he continues, knowing he would not have the energy for anything else, "a flash of light… they passed out… dragged away. Keep the resistance alive, I'm sorry…," he exhales his last breath, dying right there, leaving the two in an oddly colder cavern.  
"We should take his body back," Arya determines, grabbing him under the arms and standing up with him.  
"I'll help," Murtagh offers, already standing on his other side.  
"I can carry him fine," she snaps, though the strain of her voice and difficulty lifting him proved otherwise. Murtagh only raised an eyebrow and together they brought him back up the stairs, hearing the horrified and sorrowed gasps of passing soldiers even over their own panting. When they got to the ground floor, again, Nasuada was at the stairs, probably catching word of Ajihad's passing.  
"Set him down, we'll take care of him, you two can retire for today," she said almost monotone, hiding her welling emotions and unsteady breathing. The two took the order happily and left her, last seeing her kneel down, holding her father's head in her hands.  
"Should we tell her about Eragon and Saphira tomorrow?" Murtagh asks Arya once they were out of earshot of really anyone. He had stopped walking, aware he didn't really know where he would stay for the night.  
"Yeah, we should," she says, opening the door they had come upon, the realization of what had happened to the two finally sinking in. As he began to walk away to leave her at what was clearly her quarters, she grabbed his shoulder and pulled him in, shutting the door behind her, "so, you really are a defector?"  
"Yes," he had tensed when she touched him, he really was more jumpy than he'd care to admit.  
"What other injuries have you sustained?"  
"Why?"  
"I didn't think you'd like to keep them," she had stepped a bit closer, he didn't back away, and was considering her offer. Eventually he did relent. She quickly healed what she could, mostly surface-level scratches. He inspected the areas after she was done, seemingly happy with the healings, “do you have somewhere to sleep?” She asks, really wanting him to leave more than anything.   
“Well, I could go back to that cell.”  
She thinks for a second before sighing, “you can stay here, you’re just sleeping on the other side of the room.” “Thanks,” he mutters, catching the pillow she rather roughly tossed at him. He laid down a distance away. The two both lay tense, before eventually coming to terms that neither would stab each other at random, and they fall asleep.   
When they wake up they set off quickly to find Nasuada. Luckily, Nasuada was much easier to find this time, seated in Ajihad's office. If she had been working on something, she had set it down for their meeting. She was a bit out of it, though not completely unaware. Her attention is immediately grabbed when Arya explains, “Saphira and Eragon have fallen into Galbatorix's hands."


End file.
